Now, those days were long gone, but I still cherished the traditions. Each year, I decorated my house with cobwebs, pumpkins, and spooky lights, and waited for the neighborhood kids to come trick-or-treating. It brought a little light into my otherwise quiet life.
Just two years ago, I had walked the same streets with my daughter, holding her tiny hand as we went door to door. It feels like a distant dream now, a beautiful memory that slipped away too soon. Losing her shattered me, and it broke my marriage with John as well. We couldn’t find a way to heal, and we drifted apart under the weight of our grief.
That night, after handing out candy for hours, I realized my bowl was empty. With a sigh, I hung a “No More Treats” sign on the door. A familiar ache settled in my chest—the kind that never fully goes away.
My house stood directly across from a cemetery, a place that unnerved most people. It didn’t bother me. The rent was cheap, and I’d never been one to believe in ghosts. I made myself a cup of cocoa and sat by the window, half-expecting to see some teenagers playing pranks among the gravestones.
But what I saw instead made my heart skip a beat. Near one of the graves was what looked like a baby car seat. I blinked, thinking it was a trick of the light, but the shape didn’t waver.
I grabbed my coat and hurried outside, the chilly October air biting at my skin. The cemetery was eerily still as I walked closer to the grave, every step filled with dread. When I finally reached it, my breath caught in my throat. There, in the car seat, was a tiny baby, fast asleep.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, kneeling down to pick her up. She was so small, completely unaware of the cold night air around her. “How did you get here?” I asked softly, knowing there would be no answer. I held her close and rushed back to the house.
Once inside, I laid her gently on the couch and noticed a note taped to her car seat. With trembling hands, I unfolded it. The note read, “Amanda, one and a half years old.”
That was all. No phone number, no explanation. Just a name. I searched the car seat for more information, but there was nothing. I looked down at Amanda, who stirred slightly, and felt my heart twist. What was I going to do with her?
Without thinking, I called the police. They listened as I explained the situation, but when they told me there were no reports of a missing child, frustration bubbled inside me. Still, they asked me to bring her in.
At the station, Amanda sat quietly in her car seat, her wide eyes gazing up at me as though she already trusted me. When the officers said she’d be placed in the care of social services, a sudden surge of protectiveness washed over me.
“Can she stay with me, at least for now?” I asked, my voice steady though my heart raced.
After hours of paperwork and background checks, they agreed. Amanda was coming home with me.
The days that followed were a blur of bottles, diapers, and sleepless nights. It had been so long since I’d taken care of a little one, but it all came back to me piece by piece. Every morning, I bought her toys, read her stories, and watched as her giggles filled the quiet spaces of my house. She became the light I didn’t know I needed.
It wasn’t always easy—some nights, her cries were impossible to soothe. But even in those difficult moments, I found joy. Amanda had filled the void in my heart, a place that had been empty for so long. The more time we spent together, the more attached I became.
One morning, as I fed Amanda breakfast, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find a police officer standing with an elderly woman by his side.
“Jessica,” the officer said gently. “This is Amanda’s grandmother, Carol. She’s here to take her back.”
My heart sank. Amanda had become so much a part of me that the thought of letting her go felt unbearable. But Carol was her family. I had no right to keep her.
Carol stepped forward, smiling warmly. “Hello, sweetie,” she said, reaching for Amanda. Every instinct in me screamed to hold on, but I slowly handed her over.
The moment Amanda left my arms, she started to cry. Her little hands reached for me, and it was like a dagger to my heart. Tears stung my eyes as I watched her go, but I knew I had no choice.
Before leaving, Carol handed me a basket and thanked me for taking care of Amanda. As soon as they were gone, I collapsed on the couch, tears flowing freely. It felt like I had lost my daughter all over again.
Later that night, I stared at the basket, too heartbroken to eat. Something nagged at me, though. I picked up the thank-you note Carol had left and read it again. The handwriting looked familiar.
My heart raced as I ran to my room and grabbed the note that had been left with Amanda’s car seat. Holding the two side by side, a chill ran down my spine. The handwriting was the same. Carol had abandoned Amanda at the cemetery.
Without hesitation, I grabbed my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in a long time.
“John, hi,” I said, my voice shaking.
“Jess?” he sounded surprised. “Is everything okay?”
“No,” I admitted, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on me. “I need your help.”
“I’ll be right there,” he said, his voice firm.
John arrived in under twenty minutes. I told him everything—about Amanda, the cemetery, and Carol’s deception. He listened quietly, and when I finished, he asked the question I’d been dreading.
“What do you want to do?”
“I want to take her back,” I said, my voice strong with conviction. “Amanda belongs with me.”
John nodded, and from that moment, we worked together. It was a long battle—endless meetings with lawyers and tense confrontations with Carol—but we didn’t give up. Weeks later, we stood in court, ready to fight for Amanda’s future.
Carol broke down on the stand, admitting that she had left Amanda at the cemetery because she could no longer care for her. The court revoked her custody, and I was granted temporary guardianship—with the possibility of adoption.
As I walked out of the courthouse, Amanda resting peacefully in my arms, I couldn’t stop smiling. She was mine, and I would do everything in my power to keep her safe and loved.
John walked beside us, his expression calm but content. “You’re going to be an amazing mom to her,” he said softly.
I smiled at him, my heart full of gratitude. “Thank you, John. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
As we walked away from the courthouse, I felt a renewed sense of hope. Halloween had always been special to me, but now it meant something even greater—it brought Amanda into my life.
And perhaps, just maybe, it was bringing John back into it, too.
Delivery Guy Left a Message for Me on a Pizza Box — Turns Out, He Saved Me from a Disastrous Marriage
When Emily ordered pizza while her fiancé was out of town, she expected a quiet night alone, not a message that would unravel her life. Little did she know, the delivery would save her from a disastrous marriage.
Living with Jake felt like being stuck in a comfortable routine. Our small apartment, with its cozy throws and mismatched cushions, was our haven—or so I thought. I’m Emily, and for the past three years, Jake and I have made a habit out of simple pleasures.
Emily ordered a pizza | Source: Midjourney
The most frequent one was ordering pizza from the same local spot on our lazy evenings. It was a ritual. Jake would browse through movie listings while I’d dial up our favorite pizzeria.
Tom, the delivery guy, knew us by name. His visits were as regular as clockwork, complete with his cheerful “How’s it going?” that echoed through our small entryway. Tonight, however, it was just me. Jake was out of town on a business trip, and the quiet was louder than usual.
I ordered a single pizza—my usual, pepperoni with extra cheese. When the doorbell rang, it was Tom, as expected, but something about him was off tonight. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and his hands seemed to shake a bit as he handed me the pizza box.
Tom delivered the pizza | Source: Midjourney
“Evening, Emily. Jake’s not around tonight?” Tom asked, a slight quiver in his voice.
“No, just me tonight,” I responded, trying to sound cheerful. Tom nodded, quickly turning on his heel to leave—too quickly, it seemed.
As I shut the door, his behavior nagged at me. Was he okay? Shaking off the concern, I carried the warm box to the kitchen. The aroma of garlic and tomato sauce filled the air, a comfort that usually felt like a hug.
Emily found the note | Source: Midjourney
But as I opened the box, my heart skipped a beat. There, scrawled across the inside lid of the box with a black Sharpie, was a message that read, “He is not who you think. Check your door camera.”
The pizza suddenly seemed unappetizing as a cold wave of dread washed over me. My hands trembled as I set the box down, the cheerful buzz of the apartment now swallowed by a looming silence. What was I about to find on that camera?
My fingers trembled as I fumbled with the tablet that controlled our door camera. The message in the pizza box had sent chills down my spine, and every second until I opened the app felt like an eternity. I tapped into the camera’s history, my breath catching with each swipe back through the days.
Emily finds the footage | Source: Midjourney
Then, I saw it.
Jake, my Jake, greeted a woman at our door. Not just any woman—this one was laughing as she handed him a bottle of wine. My heart sank. I scrolled further. Another day, another woman, this one carrying a stack of movies.
Every time I was away, it seemed, Jake had company. Different women, each visit documented clearly by the camera he had installed, ironically, for our safety.
Jake meets the other woman on his front porch | Source: Midjourney
I sat frozen, the tablet dropping to my lap. My mind raced. How could he? When had our life together turned into this charade? Tears blurred my vision, each clip on the camera a stab to my heart. The trust I’d placed in him, the love I’d nurtured—were they all just one-sided? Was I the only one in this?
With each woman’s laugh, each shared bottle of wine, it felt as though the apartment shrank, the walls closing in on me. I’d loved this space, our shared life, but now each room screamed of betrayal.
I felt nauseous, a lump forming in my throat as the reality settled like lead in my stomach. This wasn’t just a simple mistake or a misunderstanding. It was a deliberate, repeated betrayal. My hands clenched into fists, my nails digging into my palms.
Emily calms herself before confronting Jake | Source: Midjourney
Rage mingled with my sorrow, heating my tears as they streamed down my face. I had to confront him, to demand answers. But first, I needed to compose myself, to gather the shattered pieces of my dignity. I couldn’t let him see me broken.
I had to be strong, for my own sake. The love I thought we had was gone, and in its place was a cold, hard anger. Jake had some serious explaining to do, and I was going to make sure I got it.
When Jake returned, the apartment was silent, the tension as thick as fog. I sat at the kitchen table, the images from the door camera looping in my mind. He greeted me with his usual casual smile, oblivious to the storm inside me.
Jake returns home | Source: Midjourney
“Hey, Em. Missed you,” he said, hanging up his coat.
I didn’t return the smile. “We need to talk.”
Jake’s smile faltered. “What’s wrong?”
I held up the tablet, showing a pause on a frame of him with one of the women. “Care to explain this?”
Jake glanced at the screen, then shrugged, his posture relaxed. “Emily, you’re making a big deal out of nothing. They’re just friends.”
Jake listens to Emily | Source: Midjourney
“Friends?” I snapped. “Different women, each time I’m away? Really, Jake?”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, Em, you’re being paranoid. These women mean nothing.”
“Nothing?” My voice rose, anger searing through my calm façade. “How can you say that?”
Jake’s tone hardened. “I bring a lot to this relationship. You really want to throw this away over some insecurity?”
Shocked Emily | Source: Midjourney
That was it. His dismissal, his arrogance—it crystallized everything I felt. “It’s not insecurity when I have evidence, Jake. I can’t do this. I won’t marry someone who thinks so little of me.”
Jake’s face tightened, the arrogance slipping into shock. “You’re serious? Over some nonsense?”
“Yes,” I said, firm and clear. “I’m done. We’re done.”
He stared at me, then without another word, grabbed his coat and left. The door slammed shut behind him, and just like that, it was over.
Emily sits in front of the closed door | Source: Midjourney
After a few moments alone, gathering my thoughts, I picked up my phone and dialed the pizza place. Tom answered.
“Tom, it’s Emily. I… I wanted to say thank you. You were right about Jake.”
There was a pause on the line. “I’m really sorry, Emily. I thought you should know.”
“I appreciate it,” I said, sincerity heavy in my voice. “Could I… maybe buy you a coffee sometime? To talk?”
Tom talks to Emily | Source: Midjourney
“I’d like that,” Tom replied, a warmth in his voice that comforted my bruised heart.
The next day, as I met Tom at the local café, the anxiety of confronting Jake felt like a distant memory. Tom’s genuine concern was evident in his eyes, making me feel seen for the first time in a long while.
“Thank you for being honest with me, Tom. It must have been hard to decide to tell me,” I said as we sat down with our coffees.
Tom and Emily go out for a coffee | Source: Midjourney
He nodded. “It was, Emily. But it didn’t feel right keeping it from you. Everyone deserves the truth.”
As we talked, I realized how much of my identity had been tied to my relationship with Jake. Now, as I sat across from Tom, a sense of freedom and possibility washed over me. Here was someone who valued honesty over convenience. It was refreshing and, strangely, hopeful.
Our conversation moved from the heavy topics to lighter ones, and laughter soon followed. I hadn’t expected to feel this light after such a heavy blow. It was a reminder that sometimes, out of the wreckage comes a chance to rebuild something better.
Emily laughs with Tom | Source: Midjourney
Sitting there with Tom, laughter bubbling up between us, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. It was like breathing fresh air after being cooped up indoors too long.
“I never thought a pizza delivery could change my life,” I joked, glancing at Tom. His smile told me he understood.
Tom laughs with Emily | Source: Midjourney
“Life is strange, Emily. Sometimes help comes from where you least expect it,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with kindness.
As we left the café, a new sense of hope filled me. I was ready to move forward, to embrace whatever came next. I wasn’t sure what the future held, but I was certain of one thing: I was on my way to finding happiness again, one slice at a time.
My Boyfriend Went on a Bachelorette Trip with All Women — Karma Struck Hard When the Truth Came Out
Secrets, lies, affairs, drama, and so much more are what make up my sordid tale. I once trusted my boyfriend with having a female best friend but felt uneasy when she asked him to join her bachelorette party. Only to find out that there was more to their “friendship” than I anticipated!
A shocked woman looking at a phone | Source: Pexels
Let me tell you about the time I, Matilda, learned that sometimes the universe knows when to intervene. It all started when my boyfriend, Jake, was invited to be the “man of honor” at his female best friend, Lisa’s, wedding. He was thrilled; I was… less so.
Lisa planned a weekend bachelorette getaway in a quaint cabin by a lake. To my dismay, Jake was the only guy invited! “It’s just a fun trip, babe! You know I love you,” he assured me.
He said this while packing his bags excitedly and ahead of time. This all happened at the apartment he shared with three other guys, as I hovered around.
Read more of this story here.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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